


When I Would Feel Alone Without You

by orphan_account



Category: Lacrosse RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, Breast Pinching, Canon Compliant, Feminine Harry, M/M, Mirror Sex, probably, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 13:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21282551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry and Xander in the summer of 2015.
Relationships: Xander Ritz/Harry Styles
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	When I Would Feel Alone Without You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Twitter and Tumblr with this @

“We have to leave at some point,” Xander sighs up to the ceiling, one hand beneath his head and the other scratching Harry’s scalp where he’s laying across his stomach, hot and heavy. Harry hums contentedly, trailing his fingers in lazy circles over the bare skin of Xander’s inner thighs. They don’t need to cover themselves with the bedsheets. It’s just past two in the afternoon and they haven’t opened the curtains yet. The gigantic TV’s playing old episodes of a crime drama neither of them know. Beside the bed, evidence of their isolation is littered across the carpet, empty water bottles and dirty room service plates making a path to the door. 

Harry mouths at Xander’s stomach absently. “Do we? I don’t think we do.”

“I thought you’d want to.”

The safety net around them feels heavy in their hotel room, where they don’t need to dress or think twice before touching. Where they can speak freely and laugh loudly. Where silence doesn’t prompt questions. Xander’s chest feels like it’s been split open and replaced with simmering water and he doesn’t know if he can put everything back in time to face the cameras on the sunbleached streets of LA, but he’ll try for Harry.

“What, and leave this?” Harry walks the pads of his fingers up to Xander’s dick, soft and dry for the first time today. 

Xander takes a moment to bask in Harry’s almost ticklish touch before fitting his own larger hand on top of Harry’s where it rests on his dick and pulling both of them away to lay on the white sheet beside them. “And be _ out there. _ Together.” 

Harry doesn’t flinch but his sharp inhale is audible over the hum of the TV. Harry pauses before resuming his almost-kisses against Xander’s skin, his hair falling around his face in a curtain, obscuring his expression. 

“We can do whatever you want to do,” Xander reassures him, softly. Harry could suggest anything. Anywhere.

“I don’t know what I want to do, though. What should we do?” Harry asks, sitting up and pushing his hair back behind his ears as he shuffles to the edge of the bed, his face flushed and sweaty where it’s been pinned to Xander’s stomach for hours.

Now unencumbered by Harry’s sticky soft body, Xander stands and slips comfortably into the V of Harry’s legs where he’s dangling them off the bed. He fits himself right up to the bed frame and feels Harry’s ankles hook around his calves, fixing him in place. He barely manages to suppress his shudder. 

Looking down, Xander rests his fingers beneath Harry’s chin and lifts his face until their eyes meet. Pliant as always, Harry lets himself fall forward until his chin rests awkwardly on Xander’s sternum, his neck stretched to look up at him. He wraps his arms around Xander’s middle and crosses them behind him in imitation of his linked ankles. Xander’s stomach fizzes like he’s just downed a beer. 

“I want to do everything,” Harry smiles, earnest and dramatic, like he’s experiencing _ everything _for the first time. Like someone waking up from a coma, left behind by the world and desperate to catch up. 

Unsteady, Xander prompts him. “Starting with what?” 

“Just whatever. Anything.” He pulls his face away from Xander’s body only to rest his cheek back against the soft warmth of his stomach. “We could go shopping?” Harry pauses, and Xander can’t gauge his expression from Harry’s tone of voice. “I, um. I saw a shirt I like. A blouse.” 

“We’ll go and get it, then.” Xander isn’t sure if it’s what Harry wants to hear but he feels him nod. 

“What shall I wear?”

“It’s entirely up to you. Entirely.” 

“Choose something for me.”

“I don’t know anything about clothes.”

“I might just wear jeans,” Harry says, his voice small. 

“Up to you,” Xander reiterates. “Does that make you happy? It’s whatever makes you feel good right now.” Xander suspects he’s said the wrong thing when Harry pauses, swallowing loudly and rubbing his cheek into the wiry hairs across Xander’s stomach for comfort. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What?”

“I don’t know what makes me feel good at the minute.” Harry confesses, looking back up at him. He unlinks his arms behind Xander’s back and presses both palms into the hard flesh there, pulling their bodies closer than can be comfortable against Harry’s face. “Being with you. That does.” 

Xander’s knees feel loose and a sharp prickle of sweat erupts beneath his arms. “And you’re with me,” he breathes, bending down awkwardly and kissing Harry’s hairline, too far away from him when standing straight, too separate, and too aware of the distance between their faces and the wobble in Harry’s voice. 

“I am.” Harry breathes deeply into the musky warmth of Xander’s stomach. 

After a pause of quiet that feels both too short and pregnant with things unsaid, Harry pulls Xander through to the bathroom by his hand, depositing him on the closed toilet seat before turning to the full-width mirror to untangle and brush his hair. Xander hasn’t given much thought to the peculiarity of not wearing a lick of clothing for the past few days, but as his skin touches the freezing porcelain lid he jumps, taking a moment to get used to the first cold he’s felt in as long as he can remember, so lost in the heat of Harry and of this.

Once Harry’s tamed his hair into a slick bun only to untie it and finger it loose again, he clears his throat to get Xander’s attention to find he’s already being watched. 

“Hello,” Harry whispers to their reflections around a shy grin, his voice sliding into the higher register he favours when they’re alone. 

“Hello you,” Xander replies, reaching out his hand to meet Harry’s wiggling fingers in midair between them. 

He’s not sure who breaks first. But he feels the way Harry kisses tongue-first and open-mouthed. His ears are full of Harry’s answering groan and his mouth wet with saliva Harry’s just pushed in there. He swallows greedily, licking back with clumsy force before he withdraws to suck Harry’s waiting tongue into the plush break of his lips.

Xander only opens his eyes as Harry pulls him flush against his body, afraid they’ll topple into the bathroom counter, his dick an unsurprising weight against Xander’s hip. He’s shocked when over Harry’s shoulder he sees the startling green of Harry’s eyes reflected back at him as they kiss. 

“Your eyes are open,” Xander pants. 

“I want to watch myself kissing you,” he says plainly, biting down firmly on Xander’s lip, unblinking. “I want to see what I look like when I kiss you,” and although Xander doesn’t _ know _Harry, he knows this. Harry presses his fingers into Xander’s back insistently, licking and kissing his way down the beating skin of his throat. “I’ve never seen it before. All the photos are-” 

Xander breaks away from Harry’s grasp, spinning him by his shoulders until they’re both facing the mirror, Xander’s body flush against Harry’s back. Xander’s beard’s grown in while they’ve been secreted away, a coarse covering across the bottom half of his face, stark beside Harry’s bare skin. He attaches his lips to Harry’s neck, his arms spanning the width of Harry’s torso in front of him, his thick fingers skirting over Harry’s nipples. When he looks to the mirror and meets Harry’s eyes, wet and full, he knows. _ All the photos are before. All the photos are with women. _

“What else?” 

“Hmm?” Harry queries, his mouth a hard line, his chin dimpled where he’s holding himself back. He lets himself fall into Xander’s body.

“What else do you want to see?” Xander asks, scrubbing his hands over Harry’s body as though he’s warming him up in the freezing cold, unable to stop until he’s touched everything, felt everywhere. 

“Your hands.” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper but he’s sure. “What they look like on me.” 

“Where?” Xander checks as his hands come to rest on Harry’s chest. 

Harry grinds back against him. “You know.”

Harry whimpers as Xander’s first two fingers press into the dark circles of Harry’s nipples leaving a thin ring of puckered skin still just visible. “They look so good,” Xander says, his breath hot against Harry’s throat and jaw. 

“Do you think so?” Harry’s accent slips, thickening and giving way to a husky drawl. Xander goes to meet Harry’s eyes but realises they’re fixed on the sight of Xander’s hands rubbing firm circles into the raised peaks of his nipples, his jaw slack.

“_So _ fucking good,” Xander confirms. 

“Why?” Harry whines unblinking, and it’s not the first time he’s asked. 

“They’re all puffy now. Look.” Xander rubs his fingers from side to side, skirting over the swell of Harry’s nipples and bringing them all the way to fullness before pinching the flesh and pulling it into points. “You can see them through your shirts. I swear they’re like, sticking out.” Xander doesn’t let himself think before he speaks, almost comfortable enough to believe Harry’s requests for him to seek forgiveness and not permission. 

“I like that so much,” Harry hurries, grasping Xander’s wrists in a panic to keep him where he wants him. “It’s like it’s pulling inside.” He throws his head back onto Xander’s shoulder, fighting to keep his eyes open and fixed on the scene in front of him. “Keep doing it,” he begs when Xander releases his skin slightly. “Please don’t stop-”

Ignoring Harry’s panicked yelp, Xander removes his hands to wipe them against his thighs before reattaching his fingers to the now pink buds on Harry’s chest. He pulls as hard as he dares on what flesh he can grab as Harry whines gratefully. When he’s scared his fingers will slip he begins to stroke them out from Harry’s chest rhythmically over and over, pulling the tender skin of his nipples into flushed lumps while Harry shakes against him. Harry’s dick is hard but ignored, standing proud from his body. Xander lets go of Harry’s chest.

“Now your tits stick out more than this,” Xander mumbles into the junction of Harry’s shoulder and throat, taking his dick into his hand. 

“Fuck, Xander. Oh God-” Harry chokes from deep in his chest, weak and overwhelmed, rabbiting forward into Xander’s hand uncontrollably. 

And Xander can’t take it. He doesn’t know how to feel as much of Harry as he needs. He’s been given everything he wants and it’s in his arms but it’s not _ close enough_. Panic rushes through his extremities and he’s pushing Harry’s chest together, bunching the fat resting above his muscle and creating a dark shadow of cleavage before he lets go, clawing at the softness of Harry’s stomach and hips in the same desperate pulls. He pinches the very ends of Harry’s nipples with his fingernails and bites down on Harry’s shoulder, unthinking, as Harry chants _ yes, please, yes, more _ into the heavy air. He’s rutting helplessly at the backs of Harry’s legs, unable to stay still enough to find a good enough groove to fuck into, his arms shivery and his teeth chattering. 

“I can’t touch enough of you,” Xander confesses as he grabs a firm handful of Harry’s arse in one hand and stuffs three fingers of the other into Harry’s mouth. “I feel like I want to get right inside you.”

“I know,” Harry giggles, overwhelmed, as Xander reattaches his now spit-slick fingers to the nub of Harry’s nipple. 

Summoning all the will he can, Xander places one kiss against the skin of Harry’s throat before hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder, their faces side by side and touching along the line of their cheeks as they catch their breath. 

“I thought you wanted to go out,” Harry smiles, his face lined where it’s cracked open in joy. 

“We can go out. Later. Just, I don’t know when I won’t have this. And I’m embarrassed.” It’s a scarier admission than Xander would’ve thought himself capable of a month ago.

“Embarrassed about what?” 

“How I act for you. When I’m with you.”

Harry’s mouth splits wide, his teeth visible and shiny in the white gleam of fluorescent light and expensive bathroom tiles. 

“I’m honest with you,” Harry offers as an admission in return for Xander’s vulnerability. 

“I know.”

“It’s weird,” Harry rests his head against Xander’s heavily. 

“It’s all weird.” Xander doesn’t mean Harry. He doesn’t mean _ them_. He means everything outside the door they haven’t opened in days. 

Xander feels like he only just met the person he’s wrapped around, like he dipped his toe into Harry only to be swept beneath a current he can’t swim against. Like he needs help. Like he hasn’t spent a day away from Harry in weeks and he misses him when he’s in the bathroom. Like he watches Harry while he’s on the phone, straightening out the joints of his toes while Harry rests his feet in Xander’s lap. 

He grabs the bottle of complimentary lotion from the bathroom counter and upcaps it hastily. He drops the lid on the floor and Harry kicks it towards the bin with the side of his toe and Xander has to rest his head against Harry’s back and take a deep breath because he found that _ fucking cute_. 

Xander upturns the bottle of lotion out into his hand, coating his palm messily. He slips his wet hand between Harry’s legs where the skin’s already slightly slick with sweat.

“You’re already wet for me,” Xander remarks, unthinking. And Harry groans, like that’s something he can’t believe he gets to hear now. Like it’s something he doesn’t have to ask for every time. Like it’s not a performance anymore. 

It takes no effort for Xander’s straining dick to slip into the white wetness between Harry’s thighs. The friction is far from perfect but as Xander reaches down to readjust himself, he notices Harry crossing his legs at the ankle and reaching down between them, yelping quietly as he strains his shoulder forwards. Then Xander stands back up straight, and gives his hands freely to Harry when he scrambles for them by their sides. 

Harry guides Xander’s hands to his chest and without instruction Xander holds on, the pebbles of Harry’s nipples enough to see him spurt a drip of precome into the now much tighter grasp of Harry’s thighs as he continues to fuck the space Harry’s given him. As they take in one another’s reflections, Xander notices the smooth bulge of skin between Harry’s legs. Notices the shaky but proud smile breaking Harry’s face in two. 

“_Please,” _Harry whispers, and it’s enough.

Xander fucks in for the last time and drags a breath beside Harry’s ear as he feels streaks of his come join the slick lotion between Harry’s thighs. “My girl.” He’s half asleep and more than half in love. 

Harry meets his eyes, smiling with his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes wet. 

“Thank you.” 


End file.
